Catalogue
by Tabi
Summary: Yaoi. TakumuxYoshikuni. Their relationship deteriorating, Takumu tells Yoshikuni that they can still be together. And they can, but can it ever be the same as it was before? If not, what precisely is this now, the 'thing' that they share...?


_Catalogue_

When he stood in front of me, that smile as confident as it ever was, I wanted to hate him so deeply.

"_We can do this, Yoshikuni._"

(I know we can. I wouldn't have asked you if I thought we couldn't.)

(But know this, Kirihara: This is it, for me. This is the last scrap of dignity I have remaining. I'm letting you take it. I'm letting you take it because you already have everything that belongs to me, everything that is important. Everything that is important in the world - my world - is something that is connected to you, which is why I feel that this is the only thing I can do. Because there's nothing left to lose. Because there's _nothing left_.)

We stood on the overpass, the night sky up above and the cars driving past below. Billboards around us cycled adverts I didn't look at, their glow only seeming to enhance how bright you seemed that night. Your perfect white coat. That strange, hungry look in your eyes. That smile that was completely sure of itself. The you that was completely sure of _your_self.

I wanted to hate you so deeply because I knew, even before committing myself, that this was wrong. Imperfect. Failed. It would end badly. _We_ would end badly. We had ended badly, that was why we were here like this, but still. I hated you because I knew that I couldn't hate you, if you can understand that.

(No, of course you can't. Or won't. Or don't. That's what we're built on.)

"_We can do this, but I'm not doing it for you. Just as long as you know that._"

I know.

"_I can't love you anymore, so don't bother me with that._"

Said so simply, like everything. A simple statement, a conclusion that you've reached. You don't love me anymore? Won't love me anymore? Can't love me anymore. That's your decision. If it's something that can't be done then it can't be helped, can it? Feelings seem like strange things, floating aimlessly in a lonely fashion, but when they come in contact with another...

... When they come in contact with another, they break. They don't fit together. They try, but they lie. That was my experience with you.

So, you can't love me anymore. Why, Takumu? What's preventing you? What's stopping you? Is it Moritaka, has he made some kind of barrier against your feelings? If it's something like that, then fight it--! Nobody can tell you what to feel other than you yourself---!

(And maybe that's what's stopping you. The thing that lets you even say that with that small, mocking smile on your lips. The fact that _you_ stopped loving me.)

(... How do you 'stop' loving a person...)

(Tell me, so that I can stop loving you.)

"_But I don't mind if that's the kind of thing you want to do._"

It's not 'the kind of thing I want to do', it's the only thing I feel I _can_ do, now. Our minds, they're separate. Even pushed close for a kiss, the physical attribute prevents us. Even pushed together, I don't feel any closer. How do minds grow close, anyway? It doesn't seem like the kind of thing I can achieve, not with you. If I tell you of my feelings, you don't care. You don't tell me of your feelings. The words I use for my feelings seem clumsy and don't feel like they describe anything at all, so I'm not surprised that you don't care. How can you be impressed by such an inability? You need wonderful things in your life, Takumu. Wonderful things, wonderful people... these are the things that you deserve and they're the things you _know_ you deserve, all summed up within that one smile.

I can't open my heart to you and even if I could, you wouldn't accept it. That's all we are, these days. I look at you, but I can't _see_ you anymore. The Takumu I see in front of me doesn't fit together with the Takumu I know, and the Takumu I know doesn't fit together with the Takumu I _experience_. And I don't think I can understand any of this, but the confusion is nothing new. I'm not sure if I ever understood you. I'm not sure if I ever wanted to understand you, only that I wanted to be selfish. The you that seemed to impress everybody... you impressed me, and I wanted you to know that I was impressed. I wanted the fact that you'd impressed me to in turn impress you, I wanted this to surprise you. That you'd _impressed_ me...? That I was the kind of person who could be _impressed_...? I wanted you to realise that this was something special. That I didn't get impressed very often. That nobody had ever impressed me the way you had, the way you did, the way you do.

Now, that's just your weapon, isn't it? The way you smile so confidently. The way you know I'll follow you. The way I know this is all an act and you know this is all an act and if this is but a play between us, then you're writing it. You make the rules. I can only follow them.

(I want to follow you forever.)

(This path will, however, lead me to...)

(Where?)

(Where will you lead me, Takumu?)

(The only hell there could be would be being without you, and this isn't it. But somehow this is worse, isn't it?)

You offer your hand to me, there on the overpass. I take it, walk to be alongside you. We walk maybe ten paces before you retract your hand, putting it back into your pocket. Coming off the overpass leads down to the roads that go to the main shopping district, leads to places where there will be people and more than anything else, nobody can know of this, can they? It's too late for the ordinary schoolgirls of Seirei to be hanging around, to run up to us with shaking legs and breathless expressions wanting to know what we're doing, where we're going, can they come? No, it's darker now. Later. There's a chill in the air and the recognition of the day has vanished. There's a sense of danger here that you don't seem to sense, or maybe you wouldn't because _you are the danger_. We go to a restaurant and talk about nothing, you entertain my humour and laugh in all the right places. I feel like I'm being hosted. You're not one of those whores from Ouran, don't even pretend that you might be. But isn't that what this is? Maybe I should send them a letter of recommendation. We go to the hotel afterwards. Isn't this what adults do? I suppose we are adults, now. I'm not feeling it, though.

But, isn't this how we were before? When you touch me, it's your hand on my body. Hasn't it been like that so many times previously? Does it feel different, now? I don't know. Every encounter is only the guarantee of continuation. I couldn't tell you of those previous encounters, the fuzzy memory they place inside me. Everything after that is only to feel _that_ again, isn't it? To try and replicate it, to go further. And like that, I suppose it's the same, but it can't be. It can't be. It's different now, Takumu. Because I know I can't tell you my feelings, I can't open my heart to you. Because there's only _this_ and _this_ feels incomplete.

(We _are_ incomplete.)

(I'm incomplete without you, and this isn't being 'with' you.)

Like this though, I can still build up some kind of catalogue of memory. Fill the pages with knowledge of _you_, because every moment away from you is one I could be forgetting you, and I don't want that to happen. And you're not a good person, Takumu. I know that now. I know that I'm not either, and I don't think this is a good combination.

Maybe it's not possible for what _was_ to be, anymore. You seemed a good person, back then. Genuine, sincere, kind, affectionate. You're callous, now. Is that how you are, these days? Is this only how you act with me? I wonder how you behave around other people. Is it like this? Is it somehow different? That you can act like this at all makes those other possibilities dangerous, though. I can no longer believe anything of you as being genuine - maybe you'd tell someone you loved them and maybe you'd mean it, but for how long? For how long would that last before something like _this_ happened? Before I only became the first in a long line of people whose lives were touched to ruin by you?

I don't know and I don't think you care. That's just the kind of person you are now. I look at you and wonder what it'd be like if you could open your mind to me. I can't even remember what that was like, since it never felt like something we achieved, but I wonder. Wonder about the things you think. Wonder what you think. If you think at all. Maybe it's all just physical reflex, happening too fast for your mind to catch up with it... no, but that's not how minds work, is it? So many thoughts in a minute, it seems foolish to believe that not one of them would consider your actions... but maybe that's just how things are. Maybe Moritaka does have some kind of block on you, after all. Maybe I'm only experiencing this because you don't respect me anymore. Maybe it's foolish of me to believe that so much of you has changed; I only ever saw one side of you, the side you let me see. Maybe this is how this side has changed, and I'm the only one who feels a difference. Maybe the smiles of before were only masks to hide this kind of smile. I was young, back then. I'm still young, but I know more than I did and I wish that I didn't. And I should be stronger than this, but I'm not. I should be better, but I can't be.

But I can be yours, even if it's only like this. And if it can only be like this, then maybe that's how I should accept it.

It's only my fault if I can't accept it, isn't it?

_end_


End file.
